1. T h e S t o r y o f O


    Date: 9/9/2015, Categories: BDSM, Fetish, Taboo, Author: -Rolf1971-, Rating: , Source: xHamster

    aromatic that the aroma was wafted all the way to their own table. Two well-groomed, contemptuous Americans lighted cigarettes halfway through their meal; the gravel crunched beneath the waters' feet - one of them came over to refill Sir Stephen's glass, which was three-quarters empty, but what was the point of wasting good wine on a statue, a sl**pwalker? The waiter did not belabor the point. O was delighted to feel that if his gray, ardent gaze wandered from her eyes, it was to fasten on her breasts, her hands, before returning to her eyes. Finally she saw the trace of a smile appear on his lips, a smile she dared to answer. But utter a single word, impossible! She could barely breathe. &#034O...&#034 Sir Stephen said. &#034Yes,&#034 O said, faintly. &#034O, what I'm going to speak to you about i have already discussed with René, and we're both in accord on it. But also, I...&#034 He broke off. O never knew whether it was because, seized by a sudden chill, she had closed her eyes, or whether he too had difficulty catching his breath. He paused, the water was changing plates, bringing O the menu so she could choose the dessert. O handed it to Sir Stephen. A soufflé? Yes, a soufflé. It will take twenty minutes. All right, twenty minutes. The waiter left. &#034I need more than twenty minutes,&#034 Sir Stephen said. And he went on in a steady voice, and what he said quickly convinced O that one thing at least was certain, and that was, if he did love her, nothing would be ...
    changed, unless one considered this curious respect a change, this ardor with which he was saying to her: &#034I'd be most pleased if you would care to...&#034 instead of simply asking her to accede to his requests. Yet they were still orders, and there was no question of O's not obeying them. She pointed this out to Sir Stephen. He admitted as much. &#034I still want your answer,&#034 he said. &#034I'll do whatever you like,&#034 O responded, and the echo of what she was saying resounded in her memory: &#034I'll do whatever you like,&#034 she was used to saying to René. Almost in a whisper, she murmured: &#034René...&#034 Sir Stephen heard it. &#034René knows what I want from you. Listen to me.&#034 He was speaking English, but in a low, carefully controlled voice which was inaudible at the neighboring tables. Whenever the waiters approached their table, he fell silent, resuming his sentence where he had left off as soon as they had moved away. What he was saying seemed strange and out of keeping with this peaceful, public place, and yet what was strangest of all was that he could say it, and O hear it, so naturally. He began by reminding her that the first evening when she had come to his apartment he had given her an order she had refused to obey, and he noted that although he might have slapped her then, he had never repeated the order since that night. Would she grant him now what she had refused him then? O understood that not only must she acquiesce, but that he wanted to ...
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